


Interpositio

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Series: Iterum Iterumque [3]
Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Age Difference, College AU, M/M, both Jack and Rhys make poor decisions, hot dad Jack, none of this is Angel's fault, slight dubcon elements at one point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-03 23:06:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6630721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Interpositio</i> - interposition, insertion, introduction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interpositio

**Author's Note:**

> I have no one to blame but myself this time.

The thing that Rhys is never ever planning on telling Vaughn and _especially_ not Angel is that that time in the dorm hadn't been the first time with Jack.

 

* * *

It’s a bright, beautiful day on the university campus. The sun is shining, birds are chirping, and Rhys doesn’t see any of it as he makes his way back to his dorm room.

Rhys needs to get laid. Badly. It’s kind of a problem - even _Hugo_ is starting to look attractive, and that’s just a whole world of _no_.

Vaughn has tried to be supportive, but it’s not something he really relates to. Angel is a little better, but even she hadn’t been too sympathetic.

“Just find someone and get it out of your system, Rhys. You’re attractive enough - “

“Thanks? I think?”

Angel had rolled her eyes at him. “What I’m _saying_ is that you should be able to find _someone._ Someone who is _not_ Hugo, because ew,” she adds, and Rhys nods sadly.

So it’s on his mind when he approaches the Arts and Music building and sees the lone man leaning against the front wall. He’s older than Rhys, old enough to be a professor or possibly a guest lecturer. He’s got an angular face, the strongest jawline Rhys has ever seen, and a gray streak just non-uniform enough to be natural and not a trendy statement. He’s got his sleeves rolled up, sunglasses on, and he’s smoking a cigarette right underneath the “No Smoking Within 25 Feet of Building Entrance” sign.

He looks like someone’s dad. He looks like kind of a dick. He’s got exactly the kind of look that bypasses Rhys’ better judgement and speaks directly to his hindbrain, and Rhys is a little ashamed of how hard he would hit that.

All of a sudden Rhys has a terrible, wonderful idea.

Rhys hasn’t seen the man around before, but then he doesn’t make it over this way very often. Rhys drifts over, catching the tail end of the man’s phone conversation.

“No, no, honey,” and Rhys’ confidence slips a bit. Is this guy taken? “Hon, don’t worry about it. Take all the time you need, I’ll be here when you get here.”

The man hangs up as Rhys comes to a stop in front of him. The sunglasses have slipped down his nose a little, and he flicks Rhys a glance over the top of them.

“Can I help you?” he says disinterestedly.

“Sounds like you’re waiting for someone. Girlfriend?” Rhys shifts the bag on his shoulder and tries to act casual.

The man snorts and puts his phone away. “No.”

“Boyfriend?”

That gets the man’s attention, and he ashes his cigarette as he gives Rhys a slower look. “No.”

Rhys’ heart is pounding and he can’t believe he’s doing this. “You wanna…?” Rhys nods his head toward the side of the building, where the space between it and the next is narrow, shadowed, and most of all - secluded.

The man looks at him in disbelief. “Are you _propositioning_ me, kid?” Rhys shrugs; he can’t quite believe it himself.

The man takes a long drag on his cigarette, giving Rhys an extremely thorough once-over that makes Rhys flush. Rhys shifts a little in place, but what does he have to lose, really? This guy is probably going to say no, and then Rhys will be on his way, and Rhys will never see him again -

The man drops his cigarette and grinds it out with his shoe. ( _Dad shoes, Jesus, why,_ Rhys thinks to himself.) “I’m not going to say I’m not interested.” _Wait, what?_ He gives Rhys a predatory grin and Rhys’ stomach flips. “Lead the way, kid.”

So Rhys does, around the corner and back into the late afternoon shadows. It’s dim, especially after the harsh glare of the sunlight, and there are a few recycling containers to block them from casual view, but it’s not so dark or private that they couldn’t be seen if someone came looking. Rhys unexpectedly thrills at the thought. He feels a little high, on adrenaline, on anticipation, on disbelief that he’s _actually going to do this._

He turns and finds the man watching him, sunglasses off and hands tucked in his pockets. This close Rhys can see that his eyes are mismatched - one green, one blue - and that there’s a faint curving scar cutting his face into thirds. Rhys vaguely wonders how _that_ happened, then the man rolls his shoulders and Rhys is distracted.

“So.” Rhys finds himself watching the man’s lips and the guy smirks. “What are you offering, kiddo?”

“I, um.” Rhys steps forward, reaching out to trace the man’s belt. “Can I, Mr., uh...”

The man’s smirk deepens. “If you’re going to suck my dick, you can call me Jack.” He gestures toward his belt buckle. “And by all means, be my guest.”

 _Jack._ Rhys licks his lips against a mouth suddenly gone dry. He shrugs off his bag and sinks to his knees, feeling the weight of Jack’s eyes on him. There’s lighting singing in his veins, and he doesn’t even have the guy’s dick in his mouth yet. He undoes Jack’s belt and pants and draws his cock out. It’s large, and already starting to swell in his hand, and Rhys licks his lips again at the thought of getting his mouth around it.

He looks up at Jack, who is watching him avidly. Jack raises his eyebrows. “Well?”

 _Right_. Rhys gets to work.

He starts by licking a broad stripe from base to tip, swirling his tongue around the head before taking it into his mouth. He sucks gently, then takes more in, feeling Jack swell in his mouth. Jack hisses, and one of his hands comes up to thread through Rhys’ hair. Rhys lets his eyes flutter a little at that, and concentrates on getting as much of Jack’s dick in his mouth as he can.  

Jack tips his head back and groans. “Christ, you’ve got a mouth on you, kid.”

Rhys hums at that, and Jack bucks his hips a little in response, so his dick hits the back of Rhys’ throat. He chokes a little, and he’s about to pull back when he rolls his eyes up and sees Jack’s face. Jack is watching him hungrily _, greedily_ , and when he cards his fingers through Rhys’ hair in question Rhys figures, _why not_ . There’s something _intense_ about Jack that makes Rhys forget caution. Rhys inhales through his nose and shifts his hands to Jack’s thighs before Jack’s hand fists in his hair and his hips start moving.

The feel of Jack’s dick sliding between his lips, the heavy weight on his tongue, the hand in his hair - this is all _really_ _working_ for Rhys and he shifts his knees a little farther apart, pressing on his own straining cock with his left hand to try to get some pressure, friction, _anything._

“Oh, sweetheart,” Jack says breathlessly, “you are a _sight_ ,” and Rhys can only imagine what he looks like, eyes watering, one hand rubbing on his dick as Jack fucks his mouth. Jack’s cock hits the back of his throat again, and Rhys _does_ choke this time, metal hand tightening on Jack’s thigh.

“Easy there,” Jack says, and Rhys makes a conscious effort to relax. “ _That’s_ it,” Jack groans. His hips jerk and he makes a little noise in the back of his throat, and this is the spot where Rhys would normally pull back, but Jack’s hand tightens in his hair, holding him in place as Jack comes down his throat.

When Jack lets him go Rhys sits back on his heels, coughing, while Jack tucks himself back into his pants. Jack doesn’t give him much time to recover, though, pulling Rhys up and pushing him against the wall.

“Now,” Jack purrs, leaning in. “Let’s see what we can do about you, hmm?”

“ _Please_ ,” Rhys moans as Jack undoes his jeans. Jack’s hand is big and warm as he draws Rhys’ dick out, and it’s so good, _so_ much better than his own hand, and Rhys hits the back of his head against the brick when Jack starts stroking.

“Quiet now,” Jack says, and Rhys realizes he’s been making small whining sounds. “Don’t want the whole school to hear you.” Rhys shudders and Jack raises his eyebrows. “Or do you?”

 _No_ , Rhys wants to say, but he’s not sure it’s going to be very convincing when he’s propped up against the wall of a public building with Jack’s hand down his pants. Instead he grips Jack’s arm because he can feel his body tightening up. “I’m -” he cuts off with a gasp.

Fortunately Jack can take a hint and he shifts to the side, still moving his hand as Rhys’ orgasm crashes through him. Rhys sags against the wall, boneless, and closes his eyes for a minute.

At least until he feels Jack wiping his hand on his sweatshirt. “Hey,” Rhys says, affronted.

“You’re fine. Besides, I’m meeting someone.” Jack flashes him a self-satisfied grin.

 _Dick,_ Rhys thinks, but it’s soft and fuzzy, and he lets it go as he puts his clothing back in order.

As they emerge back into the sunlight, Rhys blinks against the sudden glare, setting his bag down on the sidewalk. He pulls his sweatshirt with its conspicuous stain over his head and turns to Jack, suddenly unsure of what to say - _Bye? See you around? Thanks for the best orgasm I’ve had all year even if it was just your hand, which is kind of embarrassing when you think about it?_

Probably not that last one. Even if it’s true.

He’s saved from having to think of something by the sudden appearance of a girl flinging herself into Jack’s arms. “Dad!” Jack laughs and twirls her around, dark hair flying out behind her, and that’s -

That’s -

That’s _Angel_.

Rhys stands stock still. He’s not breathing. He’s not sure he remembers how.

Jack puts Angel down, and she seems to notice Rhys for the first time.

“Rhys!” She beams. “I’m so glad we ran into you - this is my dad. Dad, this is Rhys, I’ve told you about him.”

“Rhys, huh,” Jack’s got his sunglasses back on, but his eyebrows are raised and he’s got the beginnings of a grin. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Nice to finally meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Lawrence,” Rhys gets out, holding his incriminating sweatshirt close to his chest. He can’t quite believe this is happening.

“You can call me Jack, kiddo.” Jack’s smirk could cut glass.

“Sorry to run, Rhys, but we’re already late - see you in Econ tomorrow, ok?” Angel takes Jack’s arm and starts to tug him down the sidewalk, past where Rhys is rooted to the ground.

“Yeah, uh - bye?”

Jack claps him on the shoulder as he passes. “See you around, kid.” The amusement is plain in his voice, and Rhys could _kick_ him if that wouldn’t give the whole thing away.

Rhys waits until they’re around the corner before he lets out his breath. Jack wouldn’t - he wouldn’t _say_ anything, would he? Even though he’s apparently Angel’s dad?

Angel’s dad.

Angel’s _dad._

Rhys shakes himself. He’s followed Angel’s advice - even if not _quite_ in the way she intended it - and he has to say, apart from the _accidentally blowing her dad_ thing, he does feel better.

He feels pretty great, in fact, now that his heart rate is returning to normal.

Rhys bundles his sweatshirt up under his arm and starts back up the way he had been heading before all - before all _this._ This actually turned out pretty well, all things considered - he got off, he gets to check “public sex” off his bucket list, and as long as Rhys can keep his mouth shut Angel will be none the wiser.

That shouldn’t be a problem. It’s not like Rhys will ever see Jack again.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](http://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com) on Tumblr!


End file.
